The sea was dead calm. Not a cloud in the sky, nor a ripple in the water. The sun beat down mercilessly on the ship’s deck, blistering the feet of the shoeless deck slaves as they went about their duties. Not a breath of wind was felt for 7 days now, as the “ Widow’s Tears” floundered on the desolate sea.
The captain, a burly and mean spirited orc named Ulam Black Skull, shook his fist at the sky cursing. “ Arrrgh ye wicked sky Gods, where be me wind? “ he said whilst giving one of the deck hands a swift kick to his hindquarters.
Zerk, a tall and lanky lizardfolk man and slave since he was a young hatchling, did his best to avoid the captains gaze even in the best of times, but these sea conditions always brought out his worst. Zerk silently slipped down into the cargo bay for some respite from the sun and the whip. He prayed to every God he heard of for some wind, lest they died out so far from any dry land.
The sweltering heat wore on through the hours with no end in sight. Captain Black Skull called for the shaman, Kromzukk to consult the bones yet again. The Shaman slowly came up from below decks. Old, withered and more bones than flesh. Wicked scars cover his body along with intricate tattoos. A tangle with a black dragon in his youth gave him those scars and awakened in him the shamanic powers he now possessed. kromzukk moves up to the ship’s forecastle and with a large bushy brush begins to paint a circle of runes from a red substance he carried in a gourd vessel. He lifts both hands in supplication to the sky, chanting some unintelligible words in a language no one knows, before casting a handful of small, seemingly random bones into the circle.
After a few moments contemplating the meaning of the bones, Kromzukk slowly stands to face the captain. “ Yurtrus, lord of maggots answers the Captains call. He demands sacrifice and he will restore the winds,” he announced in a booming, unnatural voice.
At hearing this, the deck slaves began to panic, trying to find a place out of sight, but it was too late. The first mate snatched up a goblin deckhand before he could leap overboard. And brought him forth to the runic circle.
Zerk heard everything from his place below and silently thanked the Gods he was not topside. The sound of the goblin pleading for life was terrifying, it sounds like it is the goblin known as Slimjim. He has been with the crew for many years and he will be a real loss. Of course, his competence as a sailor will make him a valuable sacrifice. The Gids do not grant theor favors lightly and they dislike unworthy sacrifices.
poor ol’ Slimjim was dismembered in the circle. One limb for each of the four winds and the rest for Yurtrus. The torso and head would remain on the foredeck to be consumed by flies, the emissaries of Yurtrus. Once he was satiated, the winds would return.
A few more hours passed, the body of the goblin was covered by a swarm of large flies as it baked in the sun. The sun began its journey into the sea when the first bit of breeze broke through the calm. Very faint at first, so soft the crew thought it was fantasy..Then it picked up a bit at a time, Captain Black Skull ordered all hands on deck, to prepare to sail. The sacrifice has been rewarded. Everyone was relieved, They were delivered by Yurtrus.
Zerk was quick to spring into action, catch the wind and get moving. He slipped up the stairs evading the busy eyes of the crew. Nobody would know Zerk was shirking his duties in the hold. The winds slowly, but steadily began to rise as did the waters. All the sails were open full and the ship pressed forward. The wind and the setting sun brought relief to the sunburned crew, they were doing what they were born to do. Ride the wind and waves to destiny. Celebration, the Captain ordered that every man, slave and crew alike would get a ration of meat with their gruel and a cup of the Moonshae rum they got off that last haul. The captain and crew toasted the lord of flies for deliverance and the slaves below toasted poor old Slimjim. A tough way to go out, Zerk thought to himself. He considered the likelihood it could be him next time. Thats when he determined to escape next landfall, no matter where that would be.
During the night, Zerk is knocked out of his slumber and almost out of his hammock. There are orders being shouted as another huge wave batters the hull nearly broadside the ship listed deep to portside. The wind was howling, the Captain yelling to drop sail while the sea erupted with violence. Several deck slaves were washed overboard as another wave pounded the deck. When Zerk made it topside, it was total chaos and panic. The skies were malevolent, black clouds lit up every second or two by jagged spears of lightning. There was a shadowy silhouette of an Island nearby, but it seemed an impossible distance in this maelstrom. So this is how poor Zerks life ends…
Zerk wakens with a start. Seems every night he has to re-live that awful night. He rubbed the cobwebs out of his lizardfolk eyes, got up dusting himself off and grabbed his gear. It was another miserable day in Luskan, the city of sails. Life is rough here and everyone its seems is a crook of some sort, including Zerk. Rumor has it, some fancier vessels are due in port today so there is a possibility to relive some rich folk of their excess funds, along with maybe some fancy cargo if their ships security is lax..
Zerk pulls his hood over his head and quietly slips out of the warehouse through the hole in the loft wall. He scans to make sure nobody notices and he moves the mock-up bird nest and stuffed seabirds back to cover the hole. Sliding down a drain pipe to the alley and he was ready to hunt for some cash, and maybe a hot meal for once.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rat alley is as filthy a place as it sounds and nobody worth robbing lives here, besides one should never crap where they sleep. Zerk will head towards the barrier wall and take a peak at the docks and see if anything interesting has arrived yet. He keeps his hood up when in town, it seems even in hack town such as Luskan, known for every type of scum, people still gawk and treat with contempt lizardfolk…like a poor man’s dragonborn someone once called him.. He laughs a bit to himself as he remembered the look on the guys face after he put his dagger in his gullet…Just more chum for crabs of Luskan to feed upon.
At the barrier wall, Zerk peers through an arrow slit at the docks. perception: 4
Todays weather is surprisingly clear, and Zerk can see further out into the harbor. The docks have the usual fishing crews unloading and preparing to head back out. Its been a few days of really good catches for them and it has them excited. There is one smallish boat, flying a Baldur’s Gate flag. Far out into the harbor some larger ships are sitting on moorings, possibly waiting for clear docks to offload their cargo, or they might have just loaded and are awaiting departure, hard to know without doing some digging. Further out, looks like some incoming ships, maybe a few hours out.
Zerk will head to the market and check back later. He will wave hello to the guards posted on the bridge to Kurth’s island. Captain Kurth is the first Ship. The defacto ruler of Luskan. The wizards of the Arcane tower pretend it they who run the city, but it is the Ships that rule. There are 5 of them, in charge of different sectors of the city. The 5th and lowest of the Ships handles “ law and order” and are the ones Zerk is more familiar with. Always a source of good information and it is they whom you pay to get out of sticky spots.
The market is quite busy for so early in the morning, probably a result of the fabulous weather. Looks like some traders are making their way down from the north gate, possibly from Ice Wind dale or maybe Mirabar. Zerk hoped it was Mirabar. They always brought in more valuable items than the things from the Dale. Scrimshaw carvings are interesting for the tourists, but less valuable to a local scoundrel, besides the strong bodied Northmen are a bit more too handle when some of their things accidentally fall into someone else’s hands without payment.
Zerk heads to see his friend first, he had a small trading and pawn shop, third tent on the southside of Market row. Angre Axecutter, a pleasantly plump dwarf on the exterior, cold hearted killer on the inside. He was one of many vendors that handle both legitimate and illicit trades. He always had the news before anyone else in town, he must have a good source with one or more of the Ships.
” Hello my good friend, hows does Angre do this fine morning?” Zerk calls out as he approaches the tent of his friend.
” Ahhh, well doin’ most well. Whats an ugly red-scaled lizard liker yer self doin out so early?” Angre responded light heartedly, if not a tad cruel.
” Tis’ true. Not many lizardfolk are any color but green, but the Gods have blessed me with ruby skin and slender frame… I was wondering for news and prospects for the days ventures”
Angre motions for him to come inside the tent where he gives him the scoop on the traders from Mirabar, delivering weapons, steel and cut stone from the mines. Nothing of particular note but they might make good marks on their way out of town after they receive their payment. The big news is there is a ship due in that originated all the way south from Calimshan. Its been many years since Luskan has received a ship from there, since generally never head past Waterdeep. Calimsport, the capital of Calimshan is one of if not the largest city in the known world and filled with wealth beyond northern imagination. The ship is sure to be loaded. Angre told Zerk he was still trying to get a name for the ship and would reach out soon as he got it. It should be a retirement level haul if all goes to plan.
Zerks mood gets even better with the news, great weather and a great prospect. Truly a grand day. He hands over a gold piece for the information as was customary and headed out into the throngs of morning shoppers. Early bird gets the worm… he thinks to himself as he slips into the crowds. Bumping into a person here or there to see what he might catch. Like fishing, but on bodies of men and women rather than bodies of water.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
First try was a miss, soon as he reached his hand towards the woman’s coin bag she turned the other way, leaving his hand floating awkwardly in the air, like a handshake without a partner. Feeling a little embarrassed at the pathetic attempt, he shook his hands to loosen them up a bit, cracked his lizardy knuckles and would try again. This time it was an awkward looking human man, wearing clothes a bit too nice for this market. Zerk slips in behind him as he walked, matching closely the mans gait.
Sweet success! His hand slipped around and relieved the man of a small pouch lightly tucked into his belt. It was practically falling off of its own accord.
Quickly moving away, lest anyone in the crowd have seen him, he ducked into an alley to examine his catch.
4gp, 10sp..the man was clearly a cheap skate. Maybe he spent most of his money to look richer than he was. Not an uncommon occurrence here in Luskan. At least it was enough to cover food for a week and some for the boat fund. He quickly headed back into the crowd and towards the north gate to scout the Mirabar convoy. How many carts, how many guards. Was the cargo as it was supposed to be? It didn’t happen often but occasionally these shipments had things other than what was declared.
On the way to the North gate, Zerk catches a glimpse of a interesting fellow. Very short, a grey skinned gnomish man. He wore a red cloak with a ridiculously high stiff collar and upon his shoulder was a wicked looking vulture which gave Zerk an uneasy feeling for some reason. Zerk considered picking his pocket, but quickly changed his mind when the vulture began staring him down. He quickly made his way past and found a nice spot to sit and watch the caravans enter. He bought himself some decent looking fruit from a nearby stand and ate breakfast and took notes.
The mine was a dark, dank place and noisy. The constant clacking of pick on stone, the sound echoing through every branch of the tunnel. 25 or more hammers, chisels and picks singing off the stone simultaneously. Over and over again. Oh, how Thagal hated it. The sore muscles, the sweating and the dirt. He understands well that it is the family business, the source of their success and fortunes. Everyone in his family except his mother toiled in the mine. Their claim is a fountain of gemstones. One of the richest veins in this area, and Thagal was good at finding them. Like he could smell them. He knew immediately which vein to tap and which gemstones hid there. A true knack and talent, but he hated it. Mines are a hard place to read, and reading is what he loved. He longed to be in a tower somewhere studying, learning the secrets of the universe and its powers. He often snuck books into the mine with him. Pretending to slave away, while really shirking the labor and reading. This book was about infernal powers, sometimes dark and sometimes benevolent. To fool his father, he rigged a pick using rope and pulley to lift and drop the pick uselessly against stone to keep the song going while he huddled in a corner with a candle to read.
There was a shudder in the wall he was leaning on, a little bit a dirt fell from the ceiling covering his book pages and him with fine grey dust. And suddenly the music stopped…then the stone came tumbling down on top of him. The silence, the darkness. Where was his book?
Thagal opened his eyes. Completely enveloped by darkness, he could barely move his limbs. Miraculously he did nor feel any serious injury, merely bruises, but he couldn’t move any of his limbs more than an inch or two. He was buried. He was in his tomb. Even with his deep gnome vision he could see nothing but black with hints of grey. He tried calling our for aid, but there was no answer. Was everyone else trapped or dead? It seemed like hours went by before he finally heard some movement, some voices. He tried calling to them but they could not hear his now feeble voice. He could hear them though. He heard his father’s voice. He heard him say there was no getting through this pile. That any disruption could cause a larger collapse…and he heard him say something about “ One less mouth to feed…” just before he passed out again.
in his dream he saw wide open spaces, wizard towers. He saw the infernals, the ones some referred to as demons or devils. Curiously he saw nothing of the heavenly beings. No angels of light. A curious infernal became interested in Thagal and approached him. At first hideous in visage, then subtle changes and he was less terrible..then he looked just like Thagal, but instead of covered in dirt and sweat, he wore fine clothing and wonderful ruby red cloak, with a high, stiff collar. He looked magnificent. This Thagal asked pathetic Thagal what he was doing here. What is it he sought?
”I am trapped, entombed in the mountain of my father’s… help me please”
” Help you? Why would I do that? What do you have to offer in exchange? It is only right to present an offering in exchange for a request..”
” Anything. i would anything for escape. For knowledge….for power”
“ vow to serve my master and he will grant you all you ask. Escape, Knowledge, and power for as long as you live. Once your living is done you will serve him on the other side. The quality of your life’s service will dictate the quality of your after life’s service” with this statement came images of the afterlife one where he was a prince in luxury surrounded by beautiful things, and then he was hideous, a tortured thing slaving away his form mangled, pitiful. Subjected to constant humiliation, pain. Thagal did not hesitate. “ I will serve”
The market of Luskan is both filthy and wonderful at the same time. The City of sails lives up to its reputation as den of piracy and trade. The majority of the people are rough and tumble. Hard working and tough people. Luskan also has what no other city has, the Host Tower of the Arcane. Some of the most famous magic wielders of the realm either live here or studied here. The tower is a marvel of engineering and magic and reaches to the sky from its island on the seaside of the city. It looks like a giant tree with four branches. Each branch run by a different wizard, and different color for each wizard. Thagal meant to get a peak inside this grand tower and a chance to browse its collection of ancient writings.
Thagal makes his way through the crowds, his Vulture Goermond sitting on his shoulder keeping watch.
“ Good morning Sir, why thats such a big bird. Almost as big as yerself I say.” The shop keeper says with a smile, clearly only half joking. “ what can I do for you on this fine day?”
Thagal lets a minuscule smile crack his lips. “ yes, i was curious about that white tower that looks sort of like a tree. Is it possible to see the inside? I am a student of strange and wonderful…mmm architecture.”
” That hideous thing? “ he responds, pointing his thumb towards the harbor. “ every day from noon to 3 o’clock they allow people in to see the lobby and of course shop the gift shop”
” Just the lobby? How about a more extensive tour?” Thagal asks.
” Ahh, for that one would need a personal invitation from one O’ the Arcane brothers or one of the Ships. Best bet is the Ships. Either Captain Kursk, the first Ship and true leader of Luskan, or from the third Ship by way of his right hand man Mr. Fist. None of the Ships like to deal directly with the people and to get an audience with the first ship requires extraordinary riches or extraordinary deeds. You can usually find Mr. Fist at the Cutlass tavern near the docks.” The shop keeper says, casually holding a hand out.
” Thank you for the information my man,” Thagal says, dropping 2 gold coins of strange mintage into his hand. It was always good grease the palms for future needs. Thagal departs and makes his way to towards the sea side of town, taking in the cities sights, and noting security on the way.
Lightning cracked the sky and the heavy rain battered the wooden shingles of the “ Tipped Scales” saloon. A filthy hovel of a shanty pub nestled close to the shoreline of Baldur’s Gate, outer city precinct. Nobody in their right mind would drink here, but every night it was filled just the same. It was owned by a nasty, battle-scarred Dragonborn named Draegar Mauldril. A pirate, slaver and a thief. Little Kel Mudscale was one of the unfortunate souls to be taken from his home on one hundreds of slaving raids across Faerun and beyond. Slavery was highly illegal on the sword coast and the penalty death by hanging in most cities, including Baldur’s Gate. Draegar operated with impunity for the most part, Baldur’s Gate security enforcers known to all as the Flaming Fist rarely did anything in the outer city. Draegar and his evil crew ran the show here.
Kel is in the leaking cellar, trying to bail out the water, one bucket at a time. It seemed to him, every bucket he tossed out the back door, two more came flooding in from the porthole windows around the foundation and from between the stones. Illogical at best to labor in this way, but he was ordered to do it, and so he did. His wounds on his back from a recent whipping still burned. He was punished for taking to long on an errand. He had been distracted after delivering a small package to some agent in the main quarter. It was a bard. Those glorious ones in bright clothes, playing wonderful music, spouting fancy or raunchy poetry and stories. Even juggling all kinds of objects, once Kel spotted a fellow juggling gnomes…truly amazing. Kel prayed to any Gods that might be listening to one day himself become a bard. It seems no matter how long Kel has been enslaved, he never settled with the idea he would always be one.
A loud crashing sound on the floor boards above him, dirt sprinkled down through the cracks and quickly followed by blood. Kel ran to the door at the top of the stairs to see what was going on. Through crack he witnessed a great battle. There were three men in dark cloaks with masks covering their face, swords drawn and attacking the master. A fourth man lay dead on the floor above the cellar, head crushed to pulp by Draegars giant morningstar… at first Kel thought to aid his boss, he was outnumbered and that wasn’t fair…But, the burning of the whip marks reminded Kel that life is not fair. He made up his mind and bolted out the cellar delivery door and into the heavy rains. His nimble and light body moving rapidly through the mud. He ran towards the main gate and as luck would have it, a wagon train was pulling out from the gate. They must indeed be in a hurry to travel in this torrent. For a moment, the rearmost wagon stalled in the mud, the oxen straining to pull the wagon free. Kel scrambled into the back and hid under the tarps covering the crates of trade goods. He was safe. He was free.
A month has passed and Kel, having been discovered fairly quickly by the wagons owner was allowed to travel with them to their destination in exchange for doing chores along the route. They were on their way to the great dwarven mining city of Mirabar, but would drop Kel off in Luskan. The people of Mirabar tend to be less than friendly to kobolds, who they see as competitors. Along the way, the kind gentleman let Kel fool around with a old lute he always brought on long journeys and Kel seemed to have a knack for it, picking up some basic tunes right away. They parted ways at the southern gate of Luskan. The man gifted Kel the lute and even gave him some shiny gold coins to get him started on his dream.
Kel Mudscale the kobold bard, walked through the gate into the city feeling tall as a storm giant.
The sea was dead calm. Not a cloud in the sky, nor a ripple in the water. The sun beat down mercilessly on the ship’s deck, blistering the feet of the shoeless deck slaves as they went about their duties. Not a breath of wind was felt for 7 days now, as the “ Widow’s Tears” floundered on the desolate sea.
The captain, a burly and mean spirited orc named Ulam Black Skull, shook his fist at the sky cursing. “ Arrrgh ye wicked sky Gods, where be me wind? “ he said whilst giving one of the deck hands a swift kick to his hindquarters.
Zerk, a tall and lanky lizardfolk man and slave since he was a young hatchling, did his best to avoid the captains gaze even in the best of times, but these sea conditions always brought out his worst. Zerk silently slipped down into the cargo bay for some respite from the sun and the whip. He prayed to every God he heard of for some wind, lest they died out so far from any dry land.
The sweltering heat wore on through the hours with no end in sight. Captain Black Skull called for the shaman, Kromzukk to consult the bones yet again. The Shaman slowly came up from below decks. Old, withered and more bones than flesh. Wicked scars cover his body along with intricate tattoos. A tangle with a black dragon in his youth gave him those scars and awakened in him the shamanic powers he now possessed. kromzukk moves up to the ship’s forecastle and with a large bushy brush begins to paint a circle of runes from a red substance he carried in a gourd vessel. He lifts both hands in supplication to the sky, chanting some unintelligible words in a language no one knows, before casting a handful of small, seemingly random bones into the circle.
4
After a few moments contemplating the meaning of the bones, Kromzukk slowly stands to face the captain.
“ Yurtrus, lord of maggots answers the Captains call. He demands sacrifice and he will restore the winds,” he announced in a booming, unnatural voice.
At hearing this, the deck slaves began to panic, trying to find a place out of sight, but it was too late. The first mate snatched up a goblin deckhand before he could leap overboard. And brought him forth to the runic circle.
Zerk heard everything from his place below and silently thanked the Gods he was not topside. The sound of the goblin pleading for life was terrifying, it sounds like it is the goblin known as Slimjim. He has been with the crew for many years and he will be a real loss. Of course, his competence as a sailor will make him a valuable sacrifice. The Gids do not grant theor favors lightly and they dislike unworthy sacrifices.
poor ol’ Slimjim was dismembered in the circle. One limb for each of the four winds and the rest for Yurtrus. The torso and head would remain on the foredeck to be consumed by flies, the emissaries of Yurtrus. Once he was satiated, the winds would return.
A few more hours passed, the body of the goblin was covered by a swarm of large flies as it baked in the sun. The sun began its journey into the sea when the first bit of breeze broke through the calm. Very faint at first, so soft the crew thought it was fantasy..Then it picked up a bit at a time, Captain Black Skull ordered all hands on deck, to prepare to sail. The sacrifice has been rewarded. Everyone was relieved, They were delivered by Yurtrus.
Zerk was quick to spring into action, catch the wind and get moving. He slipped up the stairs evading the busy eyes of the crew. Nobody would know Zerk was shirking his duties in the hold. The winds slowly, but steadily began to rise as did the waters. All the sails were open full and the ship pressed forward. The wind and the setting sun brought relief to the sunburned crew, they were doing what they were born to do. Ride the wind and waves to destiny.
Celebration, the Captain ordered that every man, slave and crew alike would get a ration of meat with their gruel and a cup of the Moonshae rum they got off that last haul. The captain and crew toasted the lord of flies for deliverance and the slaves below toasted poor old Slimjim.
A tough way to go out, Zerk thought to himself. He considered the likelihood it could be him next time. Thats when he determined to escape next landfall, no matter where that would be.
During the night, Zerk is knocked out of his slumber and almost out of his hammock. There are orders being shouted as another huge wave batters the hull nearly broadside the ship listed deep to portside. The wind was howling, the Captain yelling to drop sail while the sea erupted with violence. Several deck slaves were washed overboard as another wave pounded the deck. When Zerk made it topside, it was total chaos and panic. The skies were malevolent, black clouds lit up every second or two by jagged spears of lightning. There was a shadowy silhouette of an Island nearby, but it seemed an impossible distance in this maelstrom. So this is how poor Zerks life ends…
Zerk wakens with a start. Seems every night he has to re-live that awful night. He rubbed the cobwebs out of his lizardfolk eyes, got up dusting himself off and grabbed his gear. It was another miserable day in Luskan, the city of sails. Life is rough here and everyone its seems is a crook of some sort, including Zerk. Rumor has it, some fancier vessels are due in port today so there is a possibility to relive some rich folk of their excess funds, along with maybe some fancy cargo if their ships security is lax..
Zerk pulls his hood over his head and quietly slips out of the warehouse through the hole in the loft wall. He scans to make sure nobody notices and he moves the mock-up bird nest and stuffed seabirds back to cover the hole. Sliding down a drain pipe to the alley and he was ready to hunt for some cash, and maybe a hot meal for once.
Luskan:
Rat alley is as filthy a place as it sounds and nobody worth robbing lives here, besides one should never crap where they sleep. Zerk will head towards the barrier wall and take a peak at the docks and see if anything interesting has arrived yet. He keeps his hood up when in town, it seems even in hack town such as Luskan, known for every type of scum, people still gawk and treat with contempt lizardfolk…like a poor man’s dragonborn someone once called him.. He laughs a bit to himself as he remembered the look on the guys face after he put his dagger in his gullet…Just more chum for crabs of Luskan to feed upon.
At the barrier wall, Zerk peers through an arrow slit at the docks.
perception: 4
Todays weather is surprisingly clear, and Zerk can see further out into the harbor. The docks have the usual fishing crews unloading and preparing to head back out. Its been a few days of really good catches for them and it has them excited. There is one smallish boat, flying a Baldur’s Gate flag. Far out into the harbor some larger ships are sitting on moorings, possibly waiting for clear docks to offload their cargo, or they might have just loaded and are awaiting departure, hard to know without doing some digging. Further out, looks like some incoming ships, maybe a few hours out.
Zerk will head to the market and check back later. He will wave hello to the guards posted on the bridge to Kurth’s island. Captain Kurth is the first Ship. The defacto ruler of Luskan. The wizards of the Arcane tower pretend it they who run the city, but it is the Ships that rule. There are 5 of them, in charge of different sectors of the city. The 5th and lowest of the Ships handles “ law and order” and are the ones Zerk is more familiar with. Always a source of good information and it is they whom you pay to get out of sticky spots.
The market is quite busy for so early in the morning, probably a result of the fabulous weather. Looks like some traders are making their way down from the north gate, possibly from Ice Wind dale or maybe Mirabar.
Zerk hoped it was Mirabar. They always brought in more valuable items than the things from the Dale. Scrimshaw carvings are interesting for the tourists, but less valuable to a local scoundrel, besides the strong bodied Northmen are a bit more too handle when some of their things accidentally fall into someone else’s hands without payment.
Zerk heads to see his friend first, he had a small trading and pawn shop, third tent on the southside of Market row. Angre Axecutter, a pleasantly plump dwarf on the exterior, cold hearted killer on the inside. He was one of many vendors that handle both legitimate and illicit trades. He always had the news before anyone else in town, he must have a good source with one or more of the Ships.
” Hello my good friend, hows does Angre do this fine morning?” Zerk calls out as he approaches the tent of his friend.
” Ahhh, well doin’ most well. Whats an ugly red-scaled lizard liker yer self doin out so early?” Angre responded light heartedly, if not a tad cruel.
” Tis’ true. Not many lizardfolk are any color but green, but the Gods have blessed me with ruby skin and slender frame… I was wondering for news and prospects for the days ventures”
Angre motions for him to come inside the tent where he gives him the scoop on the traders from Mirabar, delivering weapons, steel and cut stone from the mines. Nothing of particular note but they might make good marks on their way out of town after they receive their payment. The big news is there is a ship due in that originated all the way south from Calimshan. Its been many years since Luskan has received a ship from there, since generally never head past Waterdeep. Calimsport, the capital of Calimshan is one of if not the largest city in the known world and filled with wealth beyond northern imagination. The ship is sure to be loaded. Angre told Zerk he was still trying to get a name for the ship and would reach out soon as he got it. It should be a retirement level haul if all goes to plan.
Zerks mood gets even better with the news, great weather and a great prospect. Truly a grand day. He hands over a gold piece for the information as was customary and headed out into the throngs of morning shoppers. Early bird gets the worm… he thinks to himself as he slips into the crowds. Bumping into a person here or there to see what he might catch. Like fishing, but on bodies of men and women rather than bodies of water.
sleight of hand: 10
First try was a miss, soon as he reached his hand towards the woman’s coin bag she turned the other way, leaving his hand floating awkwardly in the air, like a handshake without a partner. Feeling a little embarrassed at the pathetic attempt, he shook his hands to loosen them up a bit, cracked his lizardy knuckles and would try again. This time it was an awkward looking human man, wearing clothes a bit too nice for this market. Zerk slips in behind him as he walked, matching closely the mans gait.
sleight of hand: 11
Sweet success! His hand slipped around and relieved the man of a small pouch lightly tucked into his belt. It was practically falling off of its own accord.
Quickly moving away, lest anyone in the crowd have seen him, he ducked into an alley to examine his catch.
4gp, 10sp..the man was clearly a cheap skate. Maybe he spent most of his money to look richer than he was. Not an uncommon occurrence here in Luskan. At least it was enough to cover food for a week and some for the boat fund. He quickly headed back into the crowd and towards the north gate to scout the Mirabar convoy. How many carts, how many guards. Was the cargo as it was supposed to be? It didn’t happen often but occasionally these shipments had things other than what was declared.
On the way to the North gate, Zerk catches a glimpse of a interesting fellow. Very short, a grey skinned gnomish man. He wore a red cloak with a ridiculously high stiff collar and upon his shoulder was a wicked looking vulture which gave Zerk an uneasy feeling for some reason. Zerk considered picking his pocket, but quickly changed his mind when the vulture began staring him down. He quickly made his way past and found a nice spot to sit and watch the caravans enter. He bought himself some decent looking fruit from a nearby stand and ate breakfast and took notes.
OOO
Thagal the Devious:
The mine was a dark, dank place and noisy. The constant clacking of pick on stone, the sound echoing through every branch of the tunnel. 25 or more hammers, chisels and picks singing off the stone simultaneously. Over and over again. Oh, how Thagal hated it. The sore muscles, the sweating and the dirt. He understands well that it is the family business, the source of their success and fortunes. Everyone in his family except his mother toiled in the mine. Their claim is a fountain of gemstones. One of the richest veins in this area, and Thagal was good at finding them. Like he could smell them. He knew immediately which vein to tap and which gemstones hid there. A true knack and talent, but he hated it. Mines are a hard place to read, and reading is what he loved. He longed to be in a tower somewhere studying, learning the secrets of the universe and its powers. He often snuck books into the mine with him. Pretending to slave away, while really shirking the labor and reading. This book was about infernal powers, sometimes dark and sometimes benevolent. To fool his father, he rigged a pick using rope and pulley to lift and drop the pick uselessly against stone to keep the song going while he huddled in a corner with a candle to read.
There was a shudder in the wall he was leaning on, a little bit a dirt fell from the ceiling covering his book pages and him with fine grey dust. And suddenly the music stopped…then the stone came tumbling down on top of him. The silence, the darkness. Where was his book?
Thagal opened his eyes. Completely enveloped by darkness, he could barely move his limbs. Miraculously he did nor feel any serious injury, merely bruises, but he couldn’t move any of his limbs more than an inch or two. He was buried. He was in his tomb. Even with his deep gnome vision he could see nothing but black with hints of grey. He tried calling our for aid, but there was no answer. Was everyone else trapped or dead? It seemed like hours went by before he finally heard some movement, some voices. He tried calling to them but they could not hear his now feeble voice. He could hear them though. He heard his father’s voice. He heard him say there was no getting through this pile. That any disruption could cause a larger collapse…and he heard him say something about “ One less mouth to feed…” just before he passed out again.
in his dream he saw wide open spaces, wizard towers. He saw the infernals, the ones some referred to as demons or devils. Curiously he saw nothing of the heavenly beings. No angels of light. A curious infernal became interested in Thagal and approached him. At first hideous in visage, then subtle changes and he was less terrible..then he looked just like Thagal, but instead of covered in dirt and sweat, he wore fine clothing and wonderful ruby red cloak, with a high, stiff collar. He looked magnificent. This Thagal asked pathetic Thagal what he was doing here. What is it he sought?
”I am trapped, entombed in the mountain of my father’s… help me please”
” Help you? Why would I do that? What do you have to offer in exchange? It is only right to present an offering in exchange for a request..”
” Anything. i would anything for escape. For knowledge….for power”
“ vow to serve my master and he will grant you all you ask. Escape, Knowledge, and power for as long as you live. Once your living is done you will serve him on the other side. The quality of your life’s service will dictate the quality of your after life’s service” with this statement came images of the afterlife one where he was a prince in luxury surrounded by beautiful things, and then he was hideous, a tortured thing slaving away his form mangled, pitiful. Subjected to constant humiliation, pain.
Thagal did not hesitate. “ I will serve”
The market of Luskan is both filthy and wonderful at the same time. The City of sails lives up to its reputation as den of piracy and trade. The majority of the people are rough and tumble. Hard working and tough people. Luskan also has what no other city has, the Host Tower of the Arcane. Some of the most famous magic wielders of the realm either live here or studied here. The tower is a marvel of engineering and magic and reaches to the sky from its island on the seaside of the city. It looks like a giant tree with four branches. Each branch run by a different wizard, and different color for each wizard. Thagal meant to get a peak inside this grand tower and a chance to browse its collection of ancient writings.
Thagal makes his way through the crowds, his Vulture Goermond sitting on his shoulder keeping watch.
“ Good morning Sir, why thats such a big bird. Almost as big as yerself I say.” The shop keeper says with a smile, clearly only half joking. “ what can I do for you on this fine day?”
Thagal lets a minuscule smile crack his lips. “ yes, i was curious about that white tower that looks sort of like a tree. Is it possible to see the inside? I am a student of strange and wonderful…mmm architecture.”
” That hideous thing? “ he responds, pointing his thumb towards the harbor. “ every day from noon to 3 o’clock they allow people in to see the lobby and of course shop the gift shop”
” Just the lobby? How about a more extensive tour?” Thagal asks.
” Ahh, for that one would need a personal invitation from one O’ the Arcane brothers or one of the Ships. Best bet is the Ships. Either Captain Kursk, the first Ship and true leader of Luskan, or from the third Ship by way of his right hand man Mr. Fist. None of the Ships like to deal directly with the people and to get an audience with the first ship requires extraordinary riches or extraordinary deeds. You can usually find Mr. Fist at the Cutlass tavern near the docks.” The shop keeper says, casually holding a hand out.
” Thank you for the information my man,” Thagal says, dropping 2 gold coins of strange mintage into his hand. It was always good grease the palms for future needs. Thagal departs and makes his way to towards the sea side of town, taking in the cities sights, and noting security on the way.
Kel Mudscale:
Lightning cracked the sky and the heavy rain battered the wooden shingles of the “ Tipped Scales” saloon. A filthy hovel of a shanty pub nestled close to the shoreline of Baldur’s Gate, outer city precinct. Nobody in their right mind would drink here, but every night it was filled just the same. It was owned by a nasty, battle-scarred Dragonborn named Draegar Mauldril. A pirate, slaver and a thief. Little Kel Mudscale was one of the unfortunate souls to be taken from his home on one hundreds of slaving raids across Faerun and beyond. Slavery was highly illegal on the sword coast and the penalty death by hanging in most cities, including Baldur’s Gate. Draegar operated with impunity for the most part, Baldur’s Gate security enforcers known to all as the Flaming Fist rarely did anything in the outer city. Draegar and his evil crew ran the show here.
Kel is in the leaking cellar, trying to bail out the water, one bucket at a time. It seemed to him, every bucket he tossed out the back door, two more came flooding in from the porthole windows around the foundation and from between the stones. Illogical at best to labor in this way, but he was ordered to do it, and so he did. His wounds on his back from a recent whipping still burned. He was punished for taking to long on an errand. He had been distracted after delivering a small package to some agent in the main quarter. It was a bard. Those glorious ones in bright clothes, playing wonderful music, spouting fancy or raunchy poetry and stories. Even juggling all kinds of objects, once Kel spotted a fellow juggling gnomes…truly amazing. Kel prayed to any Gods that might be listening to one day himself become a bard. It seems no matter how long Kel has been enslaved, he never settled with the idea he would always be one.
A loud crashing sound on the floor boards above him, dirt sprinkled down through the cracks and quickly followed by blood. Kel ran to the door at the top of the stairs to see what was going on. Through crack he witnessed a great battle. There were three men in dark cloaks with masks covering their face, swords drawn and attacking the master. A fourth man lay dead on the floor above the cellar, head crushed to pulp by Draegars giant morningstar… at first Kel thought to aid his boss, he was outnumbered and that wasn’t fair…But, the burning of the whip marks reminded Kel that life is not fair. He made up his mind and bolted out the cellar delivery door and into the heavy rains. His nimble and light body moving rapidly through the mud. He ran towards the main gate and as luck would have it, a wagon train was pulling out from the gate. They must indeed be in a hurry to travel in this torrent. For a moment, the rearmost wagon stalled in the mud, the oxen straining to pull the wagon free. Kel scrambled into the back and hid under the tarps covering the crates of trade goods. He was safe. He was free.
A month has passed and Kel, having been discovered fairly quickly by the wagons owner was allowed to travel with them to their destination in exchange for doing chores along the route. They were on their way to the great dwarven mining city of Mirabar, but would drop Kel off in Luskan. The people of Mirabar tend to be less than friendly to kobolds, who they see as competitors. Along the way, the kind gentleman let Kel fool around with a old lute he always brought on long journeys and Kel seemed to have a knack for it, picking up some basic tunes right away. They parted ways at the southern gate of Luskan. The man gifted Kel the lute and even gave him some shiny gold coins to get him started on his dream.
Kel Mudscale the kobold bard, walked through the gate into the city feeling tall as a storm giant.